


Only Heaven Can Beat This View

by oneoneandone



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:27:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27180400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneoneandone/pseuds/oneoneandone
Summary: I see loveI see love around meFrom a river to a floodI see love around me
Relationships: Kelley O'Hara/Hope Solo
Comments: 1
Kudos: 25





	Only Heaven Can Beat This View

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _Oh, this is late, but I thought of another headcanon! I’ve long had this thought in an O’Solo universe somewhere that Kelley always gently makes fun of Hope for wearing reading glasses in bed before they turn the lights out, but eventually, like a pregnancy makes Kelley’s eyesight awful, so she starts stealing Hope’s glasses so she can read, and they just keep stealing them back and forth. And Kelley won’t admit she needs them too._

Through the years, there have been a lot of things Kelley has wished were different about her body.

There was her height—just an inch or two more would really help with those headers, of course. And reaching the things her partner liked to squirrel away in the highest corners of the kitchen cupboards, all the good snacks and the leftover holiday candies.

Then: her shape, which her sister had once described as “mostly adolescent boy with a little prepubescent girl thrown in.” Kelley might have punched her in the arm in retaliation, but that didn’t change the fact that Erin hadn’t exactly been wrong.

And lately, more than anything, she’d found herself wishing for stronger, sturdier ankles. And maybe younger knees, a more limber left hammy ... anything to extend her career for another five years, ten if she was careful.

But at least there was one thing she’d never had to worry about or fuss about.

Her eyes.

20/20 vision, even at 32. She’d never have to worry about losing a contact on the pitch mid-game. Or leaving her glasses on the nightstand at the hotel on the other side of the country.

At least in this area, she was better off than some, she thought to herself, smiling softly as she looked over at the woman waiting for her in their bed, looking perfectly comfortable in a worn t-shirt from one of the campgrounds they’d stayed at on their last long weekend off together. Her hair is pulled back into a loose bun, gentle wisps already falling free to frame her face. And there, perched on her nose, an old pair of glasses, the lenses so big she looks like a child trying on her parent’s pair. They’re ridiculous and Kelley’s teased her a thousand times or more about the outdated fashion of the frames, to no avail.

But, Kelley smiled to herself as she crosses the room to the bed she shares with her wife, she does look pretty adorable in them.

“Hey there, nerd,” Kelley teased lovingly, lifting the blankets to slip underneath, getting into a comfy position, half-propped, half-leaning on the soft pile of pillows against the headboard. “Whatcha reading?”

Hope snorted and put her book down on the bedside table, letting it lay open to her page. “Who are you calling a nerd, Stanford,” she whispered, shifting to nuzzle over her wife’s neck, smiling as Kelley leaned into her.

“I might have gone to Stanford,” the younger woman laughed softly, and kissed the curve of Hope’s jaw, “but no one there would have called me a nerd.” Her fingers tiptoed across the sheets to stroke over her wife’s thigh.

The dark-haired woman grinned at her, blue eyes sparkling in the low light of the lamp. It never took much to get either of them started, and she knew Kelley’s signals as well as she knew her own desires.

“No?” she shifted onto her side, laying so she could slip her fingers under Kelley’s soft T-shirt and begin to stroke softly over the firm muscles there. “Tell me, what did they call you.”

The look on Hope’s face is all amusement tinged with desire, because she knows exactly what Kelley’s nickname at college was. It had followed her all these years, after all.

“You know what they called me,” she smirked, arching up a little to meet Hope’s lips for a kiss. But her wife plays dumb, shaking her head. “I forget,” Hope teased her tongue over Kelley’s lower lip, “was it geek? Square? Poindexter?”

And Kelley’s eyes flash with something hot and delightful, and Hope laughs, rolling a little until she’s covering her wife with her body, pressing her into the mattress below.

“Tell me,” she gives in easily, and nips at Kelley’s jaw, her lower lip, “just what kind of girl does a frat daddy sneak past the RA into her dorm room.” Hope punctuates the words with hot, slow kisses down the side of the younger woman’s neck.

And Kelley looks up at her with a wry smile as her hands come up to cup her lover’s face. “Well,” she whispered, almost conspiratorially, fingers tracing over Hope’s strong cheekbones, “certainly no one wearing these.” And with a laugh, she removes the older woman’s glasses, snorting when they catch in her long, dark hair. Until finally they’re free, and she tosses them none too gently onto the nightstand.

Hope rolls her eyes. “How am I supposed to see what I’m doing,” she asks, faux annoyance barely covering the amusement in her voice.

“Guess you’ll just have to use your other senses,” Kelley answers in a whisper that ends in a breathy gasp as Hope’s mouth moves over her skin. “See,” she croaks, feeling her body respond to her wife’s touch, “you’ll figure it out.”

\---

They're in Georgia for the Thanksgiving holiday, tucked away in Kelley's old bedroom that her mother had converted to a guest room a few years ago. Erin’s, too, had been converted, in the hopes that one day all three of the O’Hara children might be in the same place at the same time and the room would be needed to house the out-of-towners. Or, better yet as far as Kelley’s mother was concerned, grandchildren. 

“What about Jerry’s room?” Hope had asked as she and Kelley checked out the changes since their last visit. “Still full of all his things?” 

“Oh, heck no,” Kelley smirked as she guided her partner down the hall to the bedroom that overlooked the front lawn, smaller than the other two. “That was the first one mom cleaned out. It’s her office now.” 

And Hope had laughed, well aware that Kelley’s room had only undergone the empty-nest conversion a year or two ago, the last space that had been reclaimed. “Just in case the pro-athlete career hadn’t worked out,” Karen had laughed when they’d brought the topic up at dinner later, Kelley scowling at the reply, “and she had to move back home.”

Now, after dinner and several nail-biting games of Settlers of Catan, she sits in the comfortable double bed that replaced her creaky old single during the renovation, and watches as her wife stands by the bureau, taking her glasses off, spreading night cream over her face.

“Come here,” Kelley whispers softly, and holds out her hand, smiling when Hope takes steps closer. She takes Hope's hands in her own as the woman sits next to her on the bed, sitting with crossed legs before her, and begins to massage the cream into the raven-haired beauty's warm, thin hands. "I've been thinking," she says, keeping her eyes on what she's doing, locked on the lines of Hope's familiar hands. 

Her tone is quiet, contemplative, and if she wasn't completely in love with this woman, wasn't completely secure in the love that Kelley has for her, Hope might be worried, might feel like this just might be the beginning of the end. 

But she doesn't feel any of those things at all. 

Just love. 

"Oh?" Hope asks with a smile as Kelley refits the top onto the small tub of cream. "You got something on your mind there, Stanford?" and she pulls her wife closer, until Kelley's sitting right in her lap, legs wrapped tight around Hope's hips, swallowing the light gasp that escapes the younger woman's lips. 

The kiss is familiar and new all at once, like every kiss, every embrace, every moment she spends with this woman, in this life they've created for themselves. "What's on your mind?" she whispers, finally pulling back just enough to give Kelley the space to speak. 

She doesn't, not for a moment, taking Hope's hands into her own, letting her warmth flow into the older woman. 

And then she looks up, smiling at whatever it is she sees there before her. 

"I want this," Kelley whispers, that smile—magical, mystical—different somehow than all the others she's ever been on the receiving end of from this woman she loves. 

And Hope tilts her head, not quite sure yet what she means. 

"I want this, what—what my parents have," she looks up at Hope with clear, soft hazel eyes. "The quiet simplicity of it. Knowing it's happened a thousand times before and it will happen a thousand times after, love creating love." Kelley bites her lip trying to find the words to put the swirl of feelings in her heart out into the world between them. 

"I want to be them one day, down the hall, settling into the bed they've shared for more than half a lifetime now. Childhood bedrooms converted into offices or libraries or guestrooms where our kids come stay with the people they love, talking about beginning the whole cycle over again." 

Her breath catches in her throat, and for a moment, Hope wonders if she'll ever be able to breathe again, or if for the rest of her life she'll feel like this—poised on the precipice of a life she'd long ago mourned as beyond reach. 

"You want—" she tries, to speak, but the words don't come, so afraid she is to speak them into truth, into being. 

Kelley leans in to kiss her, the smile on her lips everything Hope needs to know that this is real, this is happening. 

"I want to start a family with you, Hope," the younger woman says softly, mouth leaving gentle promises over her jaw, down her neck. "I want to make babies with you, and spend the rest of my life with you, watching them make the world their own." 

And Hope feels a surge of love for this woman, for her wife, unlike anything she's ever felt before. A whole new room opening in this house of love within her heart. 

"You know," she whispers, leaning in, guiding Kelley back onto the bed until she's straddling her wife's hips. "Your mom wears cheaters now when she reads, I don't know how I feel about being an old lady with a wife who'll have to carry a pair of glasses with her everywhere she goes," she grins, a hand already slipping down between Kelley's legs. 

Her wife just smirks. "If I can live with your old-lady librarian Coke-bottle lenses, I think you can figure out some way to manage." 

Hope shakes her head, and sets about finding a way to turn Kelley's laugh into a moan. 

It doesn't take her long at all. 

\---

Hope doesn't bother with a robe when she's done with her shower, just drying off and then wrapping a thick, soft towel around her body for the few feet from the steamy warmth of the bathroom to the bedroom. Fall has just hit its stride and for the first time in weeks, she and Kelley are on the same page about the temperature of the house. Warm enough that she doesn't need to layer herself in thermal socks and sweats, but still cool enough that Kelley isn't miserable in the late summer heat anymore. 

"Hey," she says as she enters the bedroom, toweling her hair off, but the room is silent except for the sound of snoring from the bed. Hope lowers the towel to look at her wife, and smiles at what she sees. 

Kelley's half-sitting, half-laying against the mound of pillows she needs to sleep comfortably these days, to cradle her new curves. Her head's fallen to her chest, her hair—newly cut into a smart bob—a curtain over her face. 

She can't leave her like that, Kelley's got enough aches and pains these days as the child within her womb grows larger and larger. This pain, at least, can be avoided, and so Hope moves closer, still just in a towel, feeling her still-wet hair drip slowly down her back. 

For a moment, the dark-haired woman just stands, looking down at her wife, heart full to bursting with love. 

It won't be long now, their due date is just a little over a month away. The last few months have been full of ups and downs, joys and losses. First positive results, first morning sickness, first kicks. Watching the shadowy form on the screen grow and develop, almost before their very eyes.

Hope, herself, has had a particular wonderful time watching the ways that pregnancy has changed her wife. The way her face has grown rounder, softer. The thickness of her hair, the brightness of her eyes. 

And then, of course, there's this—

She reaches out to rest a firm hand over the roundness of Kelley's belly, their son or daughter still within, sleeping, hopefully, and giving her wife a rest tonight. 

"Hey, baby," Hope whispers, rubbing softly, speaking to them both at once, hearing the change in those adorably cute snores that her wife developed right around the fifth month. 

Kelley groans a little, and lifts her head slowly, sleepily, and Hope can't quite hide the wide grin that spreads across her face. 

"What—?" the younger woman says, her voice sounding rough, full of sleep. "S'up?"

Hope can't hold the laughter in, the force of it shakes the bed beneath them. "What," she reaches her hands out to carefully remove the glasses—her glasses—from where they've slid down Kelley's nose, "are these?" And her voice is mirthful, and full of adoring love. 

Kelley blushes, reaching for the magazine that must have fallen to her side as she dozed off. "They're glasses, dummy," her voice like the finest porcelain, delicate and firm all at once. She doesn't protest as Hope takes the magazine and sets it on the bedside table, or when she starts to pull the pillows out from behind her and arrange them between her legs, behind her back. 

"Oh, that I know," Hope helps her to lay down, smiling softly, "they're mine, remember?"

The younger woman is quiet for a moment before scowling, and even this Hope finds adorable. Finds fills her with warmth and love. 

"I was trying to read but the words kept blurring," Kelley whispers, and she almost sounds ashamed. Though Hope is pretty sure it's at being caught, not at having succumbed to something as ordinary as bad eyesight. She's pouting now, and Hope kisses her softly on the nose, swallowing back the laugh that's just dying to billow up from her chest. 

"You're upset?" she asks, stroking Kelley's side. "Because you had to borrow my glasses?" 

Kelley looks up at Hope with wet, hazel eyes. 

"I've always had perfect vision," she whimpers quietly, and a sob threatens to escape. 

And Hope understands. For all its blessings, for all its gains, pregnancy has brought a lot of changes for Kelley, for her wife, so independent and so proud of being that way. 

"Hey," she kisses Kelley's forehead softly, "didn't you read that book I got us, _What to Expect_?" Hope continues to rub over the points she knows bother Kelley the most, massaging out the aches. "It might be age and your eyesight just changing naturally," she smiles down at the woman she loves, "but it also just might be the baby." 

Kelley has a flabbergasted expression on her face and Hope sighs. "You seriously didn't ready any of that book, did you." 

"I kind of figured that I knew what to expect—vomit, cravings, big boobs, and gaining like a thousand pounds," she admits sheepishly, pink again under Hope's exasperated gaze. 

The older woman just shakes her head, leaning in to kiss the very tip of her nose. "You're ridiculous," Hope whispers, but the words are full of love, and more than a little bit of amusement. "We'll ask the doctor her opinion at our appointment this week, yeah?" 

Kelley nods, and watches as Hope rises, letting the towel fall to the ground as she reaches for her bed clothes. "God," the younger woman groans a little, "I wish I had the energy to do something about all that skin you're showing off right now." 

When Hope turns, there's a knowing grin on her face. "Don't worry," she climbs into bed next to her wife, "maybe tomorrow. After your morning nap. If you can still see me by—ooof." 

All in all, she smiles to herself as Kelley drifts off in her arms, a pillow to the face had been worth it, and conjures up the memory of her wife, those old glasses slipping down her nose, to carry her to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> "I See Love," Jonas Blue


End file.
